Tent Fever
by phannah17
Summary: A ridiculous one-shot in which Hermione and Draco go camping - the muggle way. Read at your own risk. Another fic in which OOC abounds, Kingsley is an interferring old bat, and Draco a reformed sinner.


**AN: **_Well I'm back with another ridiculous Hermione/Draco one-shot. If you guys have read my one-shots such as Starkers or Office Love you'll understand my warning here - this is really not meant to be taken seriously. The characters are probably OOC, the whole plot is rather pointless, and I ignored certain parts of DH. In my head Draco decided to take up Dumbledore's offer and go to the order of Phoenix and switch to the other side - so just imagine that for this one-shot. However, the part with Narcissa that occured in the seventh book did happen in thiis one-shot. Hopefully that clears some things up. Anyway, this is a really light-hearted fic. You'll find that most of mine are and my only intention is to make you guys smile and possibly laugh. In any case, if you're looking for something serious and realistic this isn't for you. If you're looking for something fun and humorous, well then you may have come to the right place. Thanks guys for reading and if you have the time drop me a review!  
_****

Disclaimer: I've never done one of these so I figured it was high time I got around to it. To sum things up, I own my bedroom, my house, my state, the country, the world, and actually the whole entire universe. In fact, I even own all of you who are my minions. Owning Harry Potter is rather irrevelvant in my books. I'm far too busy owning the world.

Hopefully that entirely delusional statement gets across the fact that sadly I do not own any of it. My parents own the house I live in and have paid for practically everything in my room. I heard this is a free country somewhere along the lines (U.S.) so it's probably the oil companies that own it and as far as the universe goes - I have no idea. You are all definitely free people and J.K. owns Harry Potter. Shame, that is. (The J.K. part I mean)

* * *

"I don't understand how they could do this to me -"

"That doesn't surprise me," Draco muttered quietly as she continued ranting, "considering the fact that everything seems to be incomprehensible to you even though _you're_ supposed to be the sodding muggle on this trip."

"I mean honestly," she exclaimed as she pulled at some of her hair and sent him that look that he was really,_ really _getting tired of. Her lips curled into a sneer. "How could they even make you an Auror?"

That was it.

He chucked down the sticks that he had been so conspicuously rubbing together for the past ten minutes and shot her a glare that would have frozen hell over. "Granger." He grinded his teeth together, barely resisting the urge to snap her ridiculously appealing neck. "If you don't shut up I'm going to barricade this tent and you can sleep outside!"

"How dare you!" She screeched, her voice reaching an ungodly decibel. "I'm reporting you the minute we get back for your impudence!"

Merlin. Didn't the girl ever just _shut up_? He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands and quite possibly sob.

It had been like this for days.

They had been, in a sardonic twist of fate, sentenced partners after Auror training camp. Apparently their skills should have worked well with each others, each having opposite advantages and disadvantages. Where Draco was sly and cunning, Hermione was brave and courageous. Where he could be cold and frightening, she could be warm and deceptive. Overall, they had been deemed the perfect pair by Shacklebolt, of all people, who seemed to find their meshing of skills to be a hilarious cosmic joke.

Apparently, Kingsley hadn't decided to take their past as a factor. He was secretly suspicious of the man's amusement whenever the two of them were together. After Draco had switched to the Order's side in their seventh year the older man had seemed to become slightly fond of him. In fact, he was the one who had instigated Draco's slight, _very_ slight, friendship with Potter. The two of them had even stopped calling each other Scar-head and ferret boy on a regular basis, resorting to their last names instead. Even the Weasel hadn't treated him too badly, all things considered. In fact, the only one who seemed unable to be in any way civil towards him was Granger.

He supposed that he shouldn't have been too surprised by that development, but it wasn't as if _he_ was the one who had _punched_ her! He thought that that little incident should have evened out the scales somewhat, but apparently Miss-all-things-virtuous-and-good could hold a bloody grudge longer than anyone else on the planet. Personally, he felt it was silly to be angry over something as simple as a few mudbloods here and there. Really he had just called her that to watch the lovely little flush that always rose onto her face. She was just so pretty when she was angry. Not that he thought about her being pretty or anything. Only on the rare occasions when she looked at him, or walked by him, or spoke to him or anyone else for that matter, did he find himself admiring her and her rather excellent bum.

He shook his head, clearing those thoughts immediately as the girl next to him continued to spit fire and abruptly bring him back to the decidedly unpleasant present.

Their first mission had been assigned to them two weeks ago. They had been told that in a muggle camping ground it was rumored that old Death eaters were hiding. Shacklebolt had sent them to the camping ground with strict instructions about their use of magic since it was a muggle area. They were told that they needed to use a regular muggle tent as well as all forms of muggle cleaning and cooking. He had taken that with a grain of salt, but surprisingly Hermione had not. Apparently she had an incident at some point with her family that involved a camping trip and an embarrassing situation she refused to speak of. He had been mildly amused by her reluctance all the way up until they got to the campsite.

Then everything went to hell.

First they had found themselves unable to set up the tent properly because he had accidentally broken two of the stakes. One of the muggles at the camp, a friendly man by the name of Henry, suggested that they use sticks to hold up the ends they would normally use with the broken stakes. The end result had been a rather crooked tent that they were unable to fix since they were only supposed to use magic once they apprehended the Death Eaters.

After that they had begun discussing the issue of food. Hermione, at least, knew how to use the muggle grills on the campsite, but - as he soon found out - was quite possibly the worst cook in the world. He had suffered through four incredibly burnt meals before demanding that she show him how to use the grill. Somehow in the process of learning he had put too much gasoline on the blasted item and before long there was a small fire burning up all of their belongings.

Hermione had not been pleased.

After that all that they had had left was the tent and the sleeping bags inside of it. Henry, ever the helpful muggle, had borrowed them some fishing rods so that they could "fish" for food. That had also been another experience he had never attempted. Hermione had tried to explain it to him, but he had been utterly disgusted by the idea of touching worms and putting them onto little pointy sticks.

He had forced her to do all of that, something she had been rather irate at him for, and then the two of them had proceeded to sit on a rather crickety boat and float towards the middle of the lake. She had shown him how to throw the line back and cast off, but somehow when he had attempted it his line - and worm - had gotten stuck in her hair.

She had screamed and jumped up, yelling at him to get it out. He had been a bit too preoccupied laughing hysterically at her expression to notice that their boat had been tipping in a rather precarious manner.

Needless to say, before long their boat had tipped over, soaking them both and leaving them without the fish they had desired. She had refused to even speak to him until they reached land. He had been fully prepared to tease her over her reaction to the worm until he caught sight of her soaked clothes sticking to every inch of her body.

The taunts on the tip of his tongue had died as he watched her turn around and scream at him, her eyes irate and flashing. He could feel his throat going dry as he took in every inch after glorious inch of her incredibly supple body.

By the end of her rant he had been ridiculously hard, so much so that he had had to run off in the other direction and find a quiet place to ease that tension. Upon returning he had found himself unable to look at her without envisioning the wet clothes and how they had looked, plastered to her body.

Ever since then he had been in a sexual haze. Every thing that Hermione did seemed to be ridiculously seductive. He had even found himself thinking the way she stabbed the worms onto the hooks was a bit sexy. It had been at that point that he had decided he had officially lost his mind from the camping trip and demanded that they start looking more directly for the Death Eaters.

Hermione had agreed immediately, looking entirely too pleased at the idea of being done with camping. He had found his ego feeling a bit damaged from her apparent excitement to get away from him. He couldn't possibly think of any reason why she disliked him so. He was, after all, incredibly good-looking, rich, intelligent, and, in his opinion, decidedly humble for having all those fabulous traits. Any girl would be lucky so spend so many days with him.

But was Granger?

No_ooo_. Of course not!

He scowled, looking back towards her. She was glaring off in the other direction, the sticks he had thrown aside laying at her feet. He had been attempting to start a fire - they had lost all their matches in the one he caused - without using magic in order to cook the fish they had finally caught. He was sick of always asking Henry the helpful for items such as matches. He didn't like the way that man looked at Hermione.

Perverted git, he thought with a decidedly sour expression, moving in on his territory. Who did that stupid muggle think he was?

He scowled, fully prepared to engage in another verbal sparring with the girl of his illicit thoughts when he suddenly stopped short.

He could feel all the blood rushing out of his head, going straight towards the lower section of his body as he gaped. Hermione had just pulled off her shirt, revealing a swim suit that he decided should be illegal.

Merlin.

He fought back the groan that threatened to escape him as she dropped her shorts as well, picking up a towel and wrapping it around herself. He could have cried at the injustice of her covering up all that amazing skin.

She sent him a snooty look, one that shouldn't have turned him on quite the way it did. "I'm going swimming," she informed him with a rather haughty voice. He decided that he must be a perverse human being to take pleasure in her irritation. "Why don't you go die?"

That was a possibility, he thought as he stared after her, if she continued to show skin like that. If he hadn't known better he would have thought she was doing this to him on purpose. Was the girl _blind_? Couldn't she see how she was affecting him? Every time she was around him his head went light and he ceased to be the controlled person he had strived to become ever since he had made the decision to take Dumbledore up on the offer he had made before dying. It was infuriating.

He scowled after her, turning around and punching a random tree. He was going to murder Shacklebolt when he got back to London.

* * *

He had to be the daftest git on the planet, Hermione thought with annoyance, stomping down towards the water. Honestly, first he had managed to break the stakes for their tent - of course the ones that would hold up _her_ side of it - then he went and set fire to nearly all of their belongings just because he _had_ to cook all on his own - stupid pompous inbreed had probably never had a meal that wasn't cooked by a house-elf - and last but certainly not least he managed to hook her hair instead of a fish, resulting in their boat tipping over.

She could just strangle both he and Shacklebolt. What had that man been thinking, setting her up with a partner like Malfoy? It all had to be some sick joke.

She flung her towel off, slowly walking in the water and allowing herself to sink in the coolness. Goosebumps rose up on her skin as she lightly treaded the water, her mind focusing on the past few days.

They hadn't seen any type of clue that pointed towards hiding Death Eaters. In fact, she was beginning to become a bit suspicious about this whole trip. Henry had told her that there was rarely any people ever at this campsite - apparently his family came there every year so he would know - and he said that he hadn't seen anyone besides them for the past month. She didn't think the Death Eaters would exactly make themselves known, but to not see any sight of them at all - especially when they wouldn't have been able to perform magic since the ministry would have been able to track it - was quite bizarre. She had nagging suspicion that she and Draco may have been set up, possibly in an attempt to force them to get along.

If that was what was going on here, she thought with gritted teeth, someone was going to suffer her wrath.

The thing that bothered her the most though, although she would rather die than admit it, was that she had been experiencing an odd tingling whenever Draco looked at her. She had tried denying exactly what that tingling meant, but she was slowly coming to the realization that an annoyingly large part of her was, and always had been, under the impression that Draco was a rather attractive male.

She blamed his hair really. She had always, ever since she was a little girl, wanted hair like that. It looked so soft and angelic all the time, especially since he had stopped using his hair gel. She remembered that first morning at Grimmauld Place when she had seen him stumble into the kitchen with it falling loose over his eyes. She supposed that was when she had felt that first real tug of attraction towards him.

As a result she had grown much harsher towards him than she had originally intended on being. After all he was the one who been so cruel to she and her friends for the past six years previous. A part of her had simply been unwilling to accept that she could ever like someone who had treated her that way. The fact that he had ended up being a half-way decent guy who was on relatively good terms with both Harry and Ron had done nothing to ease her growing discomfort.

Then there was the way that he looked at her sometimes, especially since they had started this trip. It was with a single-minded intensity that left her feeling both breathless and dizzy. More than once she had found herself waiting for him to step forward and finish what he started with that look, only to watch him walk away. She didn't know what would happen if he didn't.

She sighed, floating aimlessly in the water as she stared up at the sky. She supposed that the real problem with the situation was that despite all her scowling and aggravation towards him, she rather liked him, possibly more than liked him. She had even grown to respect him over the past few years, especially after the help he was during the fight against Voldemort. He had even seemingly convinced his parents to help as well, considering that in the end his mother was the one who saved Harry. If nothing else, she knew she could never really hate him again.

And now he was her partner. She sighed again, up-righting herself and swimming towards the edge. Pulling herself out of the water, she reached for her towel and wrapped it securely around herself before walking back towards their tent.

When she got there she stopped dead.

Draco, looking decidedly guilty, was holding a can of gasoline and a bit of burnt cloth, which - she realized with slowly building rage - looked to be the shirt she had previously been wearing.

She gritted her teeth together, sending him a look that had frightened better men. "Tell me that's not my shirt."

He gulped, his Adams apple bobbing up and down. "Er - it's not?"

"_Argh_!"

* * *

She wasn't speaking to him again.

He sighed unhappily, rolling over in his sleep. She was only a foot away, snuggled tightly in her sleeping back with her rigid back facing him. He couldn't help the pout that formed on his features.

He hadn't meant to burn her shirt. He had only been trying to work that stupid grill again in the hopes that he could finally have a decent meal and maybe impress Hermione with one as well. Instead he had ended up losing control of the damn gasoline _again _and had - in a state of panic - attempted to use the closest object to fan out the fire. Unfortunately that had been her shirt.

He stared at the back of her head, resisting the compulsive urge he had developed about a year ago to reach out and touch her - stroke the locks that had become his fascination.

The thing about her was that she was just so nice - at least to everyone but him. He loved watching her face light up whenever she was prattling on about some new book she read, or the way she would gain an almost childish excitement over heading to Flourish and Blotts. He had found her S.P.E.W. campaign surprisingly endearing, even if it was completely whacked, and had never seen a friend who was as loyal or affectionate. He had never really had a friend, at least not one like her, so he supposed that was one of the things that had first drawn him to her. He could tell, just by how she looked at Potter and Weasel, that she would do anything for them. He knew that they had broken countless school rules - he had even caught them breaking one first year - and she had always gone along despite how uptight she was about rules. He thought that that was rather amazing of her and he wished, secretly, that one day she might look at him the same way she looked at them.

Fat chance of that, he thought sourly. She'd probably think more of that _Henry_ bloke than she would of him. He frowned at the ceiling. It wasn't like him to be so accepting about not getting anything he wanted - and want Hermione Granger he certainly did. In fact, he had a feeling that at some point, he couldn't exactly quite say where, his feelings for her had morphed into something else entirely. Something much bigger and slightly frightening. He just had to figure out how to deal with it.

A new plan began to form in his head, a determination he had previously been lacking arising within. Why should he just let her slip by and into the hands of another bloke? Why didn't he at least try and convince her to look at him for once? A small smile began to form on his face as he thought through the plan. He was Draco Malfoy after all. It was high time he called on all his charms and swept one Hermione Granger off her feet.

* * *

She stared at him suspiciously as he draped his t-shirt over the back of his neck, sweat glistening as he carried a pile of wood towards their tent.

He had woken her up that morning with a disturbingly cheerful attitude and informed her that he had gone over to Henry's - the sneer on his face when discussing their muggle neighbor had not escaped her notice - and gotten both matches and a pile of wood in order to solve their food issue. Apparently he thought they would have better luck cooking over a fire than they would over a grill. He had been so annoyingly chipper that she had decided not to question him on it. Instead, she had found herself surveying him warily up until the point that he had decided to take his shirt off.

She had seen a lot of boys without shirts on over the years, especially after being best friends with two men, but there was something about seeing Draco without one that had left her with that same ridiculous tingling she had discovered earlier.

She shifted uneasily as her eyes followed a drop of sweat slowly sinking down his back, right towards the bottom of his cut-offs. She shivered, despite the fact that it was eighty degrees, and abruptly stood up, deciding she had to get away from him.

She didn't bother to say good bye.

Draco watched with a smirk as she ran away, pleased with the results of his little experiment. So she was attracted to him, he thought with no small amount of glee. Now it was simply time to up the stakes.

* * *

"How's your fish?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice and then immediately flushed, forcing herself to send him a quick glance. "It's fine," she replied, her voice an octave higher than usual. "Just fine."

He hid his grin by taking a bite, pleased with the flutter of nerves she was displaying. "See anything interesting today?"

She whipped her head towards him, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "W - what?" She squeaked, a blush rapidly developing. "Of course not!"

He raised an eyebrow slowly, tilting his head to the side. "No Death Eaters then?"

She cursed herself mentally, both embarrassed and annoyed at the knowing expression on his face. Of course he hadn't been talking about himself, she thought angrily, he had only been referring to their assignment. "No," she replied quickly, hoping to redeem herself from the slip. "I'm beginning to think they're not here at all."

He momentarily forgot about his plan and instead focused on her words, thinking over the situation himself. He frowned, his eyes doing a quick searching gaze of the area surrounding them. "I have to agree with you there. I haven't seen any sign of anyone else being here besides us and that muggle Harvey."

"Henry," she corrected automatically.

He sneered. "Oh, it's Henry is it?"

She stared at him. "Yes," she replied slowly as if talking to a very small child. "That is his name…"

He glowered at her. "I didn't realize you two were such good friends."

Her expression became slightly baffled. "We're not. I just know his name, something you should too, considering we've talked to him about twenty times since we got here."

"I don't concern myself with learning the names of my inferiors," he sniped back, feeling irrationally angry over the fact that she had corrected him about that imbecile's name. He knew he was acting ridiculous and that this certainly wasn't helping with the plan, but he couldn't help the bud of jealousy that had been festering in him ever since they had gotten on this trip. He just didn't like that bloke - there was something about him that rubbed him the wrong way.

Hermione stared at him with outrage. "Excuse me? Muggles are your_ inferiors_, are they?" She threw down the fish she had been eating, her face flushed with anger. "You haven't changed at all have you?" Her brown eyes flashed and narrowed in his direction. "I can't believe you."

He watched her attempt to storm away for all of two seconds before rushing after her, immediately angry with himself. "Hermione!" He called after her. "Wait!"

She ignored him and sped up, heading towards a random path in the woods. He growled with aggravation before breaking into a run. She lost all pretense of ignoring him and took off as well, her footsteps pounding against the ground.

He cursed, realizing that she was in far better shape than he had given her credit for. Speeding up, he ducked out of the way of a branch she sent flying in his direction, smiling wryly at the move, before once again launching himself towards her.

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, no longer sure why she was running. Of course she wanted to get away from him, but a part of her wanted to listen to him take back what he had said. She couldn't believe the hurt that had risen up in her from that one careless statement. She should have expected that sort of thing from him, had thought she _had_ expected it, but once he had said it she had felt, much to her mortification, tears prick her eyes. Is that what he really thought of her? She wondered somewhat despairingly. That she was still less than him as were all muggles? The very idea was enough to make her cry.

She sucked in a breath, angry at herself for feeling that way and angry at him for being the cause of it. Wiping carelessly at her eyes, she was suddenly jerked back. Her scream was cut off as his arms wrapped around her, one hand raising to her mouth.

"It's just me," he muttered, noticing her fear. Much to her chagrin, her body betrayed her by immediately relaxing.

His grip didn't loosen as he began to talk, his voice both soothing and apologetic. "I'm sorry for what I said back there," he murmured quietly. "I didn't mean it. I just don't like that Harvey -"

"Henry," she mumbled against his hand.

He felt the movement and gritted his teeth together before complying. "I mean _Henry._" He slowly lowered a hand from her mouth, but kept the other tightly wrapped around her waist, keeping her backside flush against him. "Do you forgive me?"

She softened at the quiet apology in his voice, feeling her anger and resentment fade. "I suppose," she replied reluctantly. "But you're really quite a prick, you know that?"

He laughed softly against her ear, his hot breath causing a series of goose bumps to break out on her skin. "But you like me that way," he returned easily, his grip tightening as he pulled her closer.

She couldn't quite hide the gasp that escaped her as she realized that their bodies aligned perfectly. A slow warm heat pooled in her belly as one of his hands began gently massing small circles on her stomach.

He buried his face in her hair, realizing that she smelled like apples and cinnamon. He breathed deeply, his nose nuzzling the side of her face as his hand continued it's gentle ministrations. When she made no sign of protest he resisted the urge to whoop with excitement.

She could feel his hands and lips doing wonderful things to her and she momentarily lost herself in the sensations. Soft, ghost kisses were placed along side of her face, running down from her forehead to her jaw line. He was murmuring something she couldn't quite understand, sweet whispers that felt like caresses against her skin. She arched back into him instinctively, both surprised and pleased when she heard his abrupt intake of air.

Merlin. When her body pushed back into his, he felt something he had been controlling for a long time snap. With a sudden flare of heat, he whipped her around, slamming his lips down onto hers with a heady need that he had never felt before.

Oh…well…she gasped against his mouth, feeling his desperation as he slowly backed her up against the tree. She felt her back hit the surface, their mouths all the while staying together as he gently bit down on her bottom lip. She let out a soft moan which seemed to make him suddenly even more urgent.

She was making the most wonderful noises. He felt himself grow almost delirious with pleasure at the soft whimpers and gasps that escaped her. Suddenly his hands were everywhere, a need to feel every inch of her rising within him.

She arched against him again, rising to wrap her legs around his waist. She stifled a gasp as she felt his arousal against her, the heat once again flaring in her stomach.

He groaned, almost going cross eyed at being so close to her. Gods, he thought with a gasp, how could he possibly have fought this for so long? It was just so…_right_.

"Draco," she murmured, kissing him more fervently and moving her hands across his chest. He sucked in a breath, raising his eyes to meet hers and she found herself moved by the expression in them.

He looked at her as though she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, as if his whole world was currently centered around her. She couldn't help the softening of her features as one hand gently raised to caress his cheek.

His eyes closed, his head resting against her hand before he gently turned his lips and kissed her palm in a gesture so sweet she almost felt like crying.

Not here, he thought suddenly, looking down at the girl he had just ravaged, her lips swollen from his kisses and her hair in disarray. Not against a tree. He wanted it to be more than that. He wanted more from her period. This wouldn't be enough.

"I want you," he murmured softly, gently tracing her face. She closed her eyes at the touch, a soft smile developing on her features. "All of you," he continued seriously. Her eyes fluttered open at that, surprise showing in them. He almost smiled at that. "I know that, even though you didn't seem to like me very much at first, you were the one who originally convinced them to allow me back."

At the shock on her face he only smiled, amused despite himself. He had found out from Kingsley that she was the one who had convinced Potter and Weasel to eventually allow him to come to the Order. Despite her apparent dislike, her compassion had even reached out to him. It was what had originally led him to watching her and the eventual fascination that developed.

"How did you -" she began, only to have him silence her with a look.

"That's not important," he continued, his voice still quiet as one hand began to play with her curls. "The only thing that's important is that I knew and I appreciated it. I appreciated _you_." His eyes were full of meaning, until suddenly his usual teasing expression emerged, his signature smirk appearing. "Even if I think you're a bit like Trelawny sometimes…"

"What?" She gasped, outrage descending on her features.

He laughed, a sound that was, she decided, incredibly pleasant and sent her an endearing smile. "Batty," he continued, ducking out of the way of her slap. His eyes darkened at that, his expression turning slightly mischievous. "Oh, you'll pay for that."

She felt a small thrill go through her at the promise in his voice, a suggestive undertone to the comment. She grinned, biting down on her bottom lip. "You think you can take me?"

A decidedly arrogant expression appeared on his face. "I can take anyone."

She laughed, shaking her head at him. "Still a Malfoy I see."

His expression was suddenly serious, his eyes betraying the nerves he had kept so well hidden. "Is that going to be a problem?" He watched her carefully, scrutinizing her expression. "Because I can't, and won't change that. It's who I am," he replied simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Take it or leave it."

She stared at him cautiously, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind. A small part of her, she realized, had known this was coming - had been waiting for it _to_ come ever since that morning he had stumbled into the kitchen with an adorably sleepy look on his face. They had gone through years of torment and war, to several years of Auror training, and were now at this point. When she thought of future points in her life she couldn't really see any of them without him. It was both terrifying and thrilling to realize that.

She cleared her throat nervously. "Is that what you want?" She questioned quietly, her eyes boring into his. "For me to take you or leave you?"

He swallowed, running a quick hand through his hair in a gesture that she found oddly endearing. "Well I'd prefer take me, really, but if you want the other -"

"No," she cut in quickly. At his broken expression she quickly continued, her tone horrified. "No I didn't mean it like _no_. I meant no as in I don't want to leave you." She blushed hotly, somehow embarrassed at saying the words. "I'd rather take you, actually."

"You'd rather take me," he repeated slowly, his expression morphing from disbelieving to ecstatic. Within a second she found herself lifted off the ground and spun around, his lips once again pressing against hers.

She laughed against his mouth as he dropped her down to the ground, framing her face with his hands and pressing kisses all over it. "Hermione," he murmured against her skin, "take me, take me, take me."

She could feel her heart doing one slow melt as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "What do you say about going home and telling Shacklebolt there are no Death Eaters?"

He leaned back, his hands still caressing her face before sending her a quick grin. "I'd say that sounds just about perfect."

"Good." She lightly pecked his lips before backing off, ignoring his groan of protest when she wouldn't allow him to deepen the kiss. "Later," she promised with a grin. "We'll have all the time in the world."

He watched the sway of her hips as she walked away and found himself looking up toward the sky, deciding that if there was a God, he owed him a sincere debt. "Thank you, Merlin," he muttered quickly, running after the vixen. He had a feeling life was about to take a definite turn for the better.

* * *

Hermione walked down the street, one hand held tightly in the grasp of her three year old daughter Ava. The small blonde girl smiled up adoringly at her mother, her large golden eyes shining with anticipation as she shot a quick glance at her mother's stomach. "When will my baby brother be here again?" She asked excitedly, biting her lip.

Hermione smiled down at her, wondering how she and Draco - who both had slightly bad tempers - had managed to produce such a sweet little girl. "In about seventh months, dear. He can be our Christmas present!"

"I love him already," Ava declared simply. "I'm going to be a good big sister."

"I'm sure you are sweetie," Hermione returned, her eyes going slightly moist at the thought. She looked up and caught a glimpse of the bookstore, immediately pulling Ava in that direction. "Mummy just needs to stop in here for a minute, alright? Then we'll get ice cream."

"Okay!" Ava returned cheerily, easily allowing herself to be lead along.

Hermione's lips curved upwards as she walked in the familiar store, walking as briskly as she could towards the section of the books she needed. She stopped abruptly as she noticed a familiar face staring back at her.

She gaped, momentarily stunned before gasping, "_Henry_?"

The man in question smiled sheepishly, putting the book he had been holding back on the shelf and reaching a hand out towards her. Hermione shook it as she continued staring at him. "Hermione," he replied with another sheepish grin. "Long time no see, eh?"

"You're a wizard?" She asked with astonishment, looking him over with disbelief.

Henry grinned, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. "Er - yeah. Didn't Kingsley ever tell you?"

She shook her head, wondering how this man even knew Kingsley. "No, he never said anything about you. How did you know we were working for him?"

Henry's lips quirked upwards as he shook his head, awkwardness stamped on his features. "Well, he actually sent me to keep an eye on you two."

"What?" She gasped. "Why?"

He placed his hands in his pocket, rocking back on his heels. "I don't know how much you know about that assignment so I'm just going to tell you what I know." He waited until she nodded for him to continue before going on. "There wasn't any Death Eaters at the camp. In fact, nobody really camped at that spot anymore. Kingsley only told you guys that so you would have a couple weeks of learning to work together without dealing with any real pressures."

At Hermione's insulted expression he quickly continued. "They do that with virtually every Auror and their partners. It's pretty much standard procedure." He grinned again, a quick flutter of dimples showing. "Plus, he said that the two of you had - erm -" he glance down quickly at Ava, who was staring in the other direction before leaning in, "unresolved sexual tension issues."

Hermione blanched, slightly mortified over the fact that Kingsley had said that. "Um - well, er," she babbled somewhat helplessly, finally settling on a shrug of the shoulders. "Right."

He grinned at her lack of response, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he glanced back towards Ava. "Well, it looks like you two managed to get past that, yeah?"

She tried to glare, but her lips twitched anyway, betraying her amusement. "We've worked things out," she replied primly, sticking her nose in the air.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "It was nice to see you again, Hermione. Tell Draco to take care of himself, alright?"

She smiled after him, nodding her head. "Of course. Take care of yourself too, Henry."

He sent her a short wave before heading out the door, the bell jingling behind him. Hermione watched him for a moment before looking back down towards her daughter, who was tugging her hand. "What Av?" She asked with some concern, seeing the troubled look on her little girl's face.

Ava looked up at her with knitted brows and pursed lips. "What did that man mean Mummy?"

"About what, hun?"

"Sexwal tenson," she replied, pouting slightly as she couldn't quite form the words.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as several of the patrons sent her disapproving glares. "Nothing hunny," she replied quickly, pulling Ava out of the store. "Absolutely nothing."

"Are you sure, Mummy?" She asked curiously, her golden eyes growing wider. "Maybe I should ask Daddy."

Hermione sighed.

She would just leave that conversation to Draco.


End file.
